“Here is the patience of the saints; here are they that keep the
commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus.”—REV. xiv. 12.
OF the profitable task assigned him by the commissioners of the gabelle
(or tax), Palissy has left some memorial in his spirited account of the
salt marshes of Saintonge. The work with which he was intrusted was to
make a plan of the district adjoining the western coast line, where was
the celebrated salt-marsh, which yielded the largest supply of salt. At
that time Saintonge was the chief source of salt in France, until it was
obtained more abundantly from Brittany, and a large sum was gathered into
the royal revenue from the tax produced by this article. But with all
the skill and energy of taxation, difficulties and fraud still perplexed
and threatened the tax receivers; and in the year 1543, Francis I, after
trying various means for enforcing the payment of the gabelle, determined
on a new and more stringent system, in consequence of which it became
necessary that an accurate survey should be taken and new maps prepared.
What chiefly interests us in this matter of the surveying is the fact
that the islands Oléron, Allevert, and Marepènes—called the Saintonic
Isles—which adjoin and form part of this marshy district, were a
favourite resort for the persecuted refugees, who brought the Reformed
tenets into Saintonge. These districts being remote from the public
roads, in fact being an intricate labyrinth of marshes, afforded a safe
hiding-place, and there several “Reformed monks” had established
themselves; some taking to a little trade, others keeping
village-schools, and finding sundry means of gaining a livelihood,
without being known. As it was impossible for large ships to approach
the low flat coast, one of the chief difficulties in ordering the marshes
was to form channels of communication by which the salt made on them
might be conveyed to the open sea. An immense amount of money and labour
had been expended in the construction of dykes, canals, or passages—of
which there was a perfect net-work, extending many miles—to afford the
means of bringing up small barques or vessels, which thus penetrated the
flat country, and conveyed the salt from thence. So intricate was this
labyrinthine communication, that a stranger inclosed therein without a
guide, would have been wholly unable to thread his way, or extricate
himself from their meshes. During the winter season, all these marshes
were flooded, in order that the clay which formed the foundation of the
dykes or canals, might be protected by the water from the destructive
bite of the frost; and thus, for a considerable part of the year, all
communication was blocked up, or wholly cut off. What an admirable place
of refuge must this district have afforded to men hunted like partridges
upon the mountains! Accordingly here the three refugees brought by
Hamelin, together with many others similarly circumstanced, had found
shelter: men these, whose guileless lives and active charity commended
them to the esteem of the poor peasants among whom they had sought a
home. They visited in their cottages, ministered, as best they could, to
their wants, and ventured by degrees to promulgate those spiritual
truths, for the sake of which they had suffered the loss of all worldly
goods, and were prepared to yield life itself. At first their
instructions were cautiously given. They spoke in parables, and with
hidden meaning, until they were assured they should not be betrayed.
Slowly, but steadily, the leaven had begun to work, and it was shortly
after Palissy had completed his task (which involved no slight labour,
and occupied him more than a year), that a report came to the ears of the
bishop of Saintes, that the place was full of Lutherans, whom it was
highly desirable to extirpate without delay.
The devil never wants for agents to execute his malicious purposes; and
at this juncture, a man of “perverse and evil life,” named Collardeau (a
fiscal attorney), set busily to work to discover the lurking places of
the heretics. In that day, Saintes was an extensive and lucrative
bishopric, including more than 700 parishes, and its bishop was an august
personage, in whose veins flowed “the blood of St. Louis,” Charles,
cardinal of Bourbon, brother of the king of Navarre, then twenty-three
years of age. His fitting place was the court, and, accordingly, there
he abode, taking small note of the heretical doings among the poor
villagers of the Saintonic isles.
With zeal worthy a good cause, Collardeau not only repeatedly wrote to
this high dignitary, preferring his charges, but eventually crowned his
energetic efforts by a journey to the capital, and by these means he
succeeded in obtaining a commission from the bishop and the parliament of
Bordeaux, with ample funds for carrying out his designs. Thus furnished,
he proceeded to work upon the cupidity of certain judges, with whom he
tampered so successfully that he procured the arrest of the preacher of
St. Denis, a small town at the extremity of the isle of Oléron, named
brother Robin, a man of such metal, that the principal anxiety had been
to lay hand upon him by way of example. Shortly after, another preacher
named Nicole was taken; and a few days later a similar fate overtook the
schoolmaster at Gimosac, a man much beloved of the inhabitants, to whom
he preached on Sundays. This last arrest keenly touched the heart of
Palissy. He knew and esteemed the good brother, and had intrusted to his
care his little Nicole, who had been placed at the school of Gimosac from
the time Bernard had made his survey of the marshes. The poor child wept
bitterly as he described to his parents the grievous parting his young
eyes had witnessed; for, undaunted by the threats of their cruel enemies,
the poor villagers accompanied, with prayers, tears, and lamentations,
their beloved instructor to the shores of their little island. Alas!
there, perforce, they parted never to meet on earth again.
It was the eve of St. John, the twenty-third of June, 1546, when the
citizens of Saintes beheld a strange and ominous scene, the commencement
of the horrors subsequently perpetrated within the walls of their ancient
town. The day, being a gala one, was ushered in with music of every
kind, while the whole population, down to the lowest of the multitude,
were decorated with flowers. Old pitch-barrels and faggots, piled up
along the banks of the river, lay in readiness for the illuminations of
the evening, while games, dances, and banquets were the diversions of the
day. In the afternoon, there were to be many hogsheads of claret
delivered out, and a universal merry-making prevailed. From an early
hour crowds hastened to perform their devotions at the shrine of the
patron saint of the city, carrying with them their votive offerings with
which to propitiate his favour.
Among the multitude who thronged the high street at noon, were two men,
one tall, and of a vigorous form, who looked with an air of thoughtful
concern around him. He was still in the prime of manhood, and about his
whole bearing there was a certain air of energetic intelligence, while,
ever and anon, his eyes kindled with the fire of enthusiasm; one saw at
once he was a worker, and that what his hands found to do would be done
with all his might. His companion was small and deformed, and would not
have awakened any interest save from the intense feeling visible on his
pale, sunken countenance. The two were approaching the church of St.
Eutropius, where the saint was displayed to the admiring gaze of the
people. On entering the sacred edifice, all kneeled down reverently
before a kind of cupboard with an iron grating before it, and at an awful
distance made sundry genuflections, and uttered various prayers. At
last, the attendant priests opened the door of the closet where the head
of the saint was deposited, and displayed the treasure to view. It would
be difficult to conceive an object less calculated to awaken feelings of
true devotion than that presented for adoration. It was very large, and
formed entirely of solid silver; the hair and an immense pair of whiskers
were gilt, and the shoulders were covered with lawn, and decorated with
glittering gems. All around were placed the gifts brought by the deluded
people, who ascribed the most marvellous power of healing to this graven
image. The divinity was absolutely encircled with their votive
offerings. Group after group, alternately advancing and retiring, filled
up the church, and then emerged into the busy streets to gaze upon the
crowds of gaily bedecked revellers, and gossip over the news of the day.
Close to the gate of the church Palissy and his companion had taken their
stand, and were conversing together in low tones. “Alas! I know the
truth of the facts, and can assert them for such,” said the former; “nay,
I was myself present when the three brethren admirably disputed and
maintained their religion in the presence of that false theologian,
Navières, who had himself, some months ago, begun to detect errors,
although now, conquered by his love of gain, he stoutly upholds the
contrary. Well did brother Robin know how to reproach him with this to
his face, and he flinched under his words, but for all the right is with
the poor heretics, as they are called, the power is with their enemies,
and they have ever since languished in prison. After a while Robin fell
sick of pleurisy, and as it was feared he might die in his bed, after
all, they sent both for physician and apothecary, the latter of whom is
well known to me, having been but too frequent a visitor in my afflicted
household. The worthy man has conveyed many a message from me to the
brethren, and in more ways than one has done them good service.” “And
now they are to be made a show of openly, like the servants of the Lord
in former times,” said Bernard’s comrade; “it is a hateful thing when the
wicked triumph, and when the righteous are as the offscouring of all
things.” “Patience, my good Victor,” replied the sturdy potter. “Let us
see the end of these things. At present we are but in the beginning of
sorrows; I am of opinion we must lay our account for trouble, and assure
ourselves that we shall have enemies and be persecuted, if, by direct
paths, we will follow and sustain the cause of God; for such are the
promises written originally in the Old and New Testaments. Let us, then,
take refuge under the shelter of our protecting Chief and Captain the
Lord Christ, who, in time and place, will know how properly to avenge the
wrongs his people have suffered, and our sorrows.”
As he spoke, the sound of music was heard at a distance, and presently a
noisy rabble crowded the street, running, shouting, pushing, and
gesticulating. Then followed the procession, whose approach had been
heralded by the sound of drums, fifes, and tabrets; horsemen gaily
attired, rode, two and two, at a foot pace; then flags and banners were
borne aloft, and a troop of priests, barefooted, and carrying torches,
advanced at a slow pace. A strange and melancholy sight was next
presented to the eyes of the by-standers; three men, caparisoned in
green, and bedizened with fluttering ribbons, walked, bridled like
horses, and each of them having an _apple_ of iron fastened to the
bridle, which filled all the inside of his mouth. Thus tortured and
degraded, the three brethren, Robin, Nicole, and he of Gimosac, were
driven, like beasts, by their cruel enemy, Collardeau, who triumphantly
conducted them, in this wise, to a scaffold, which was erected in the
market-place, that they might there be exposed to the public execration,
as fools and madmen. This done, they were returned to prison, thence to
be conveyed to Bordeaux to receive sentence of death.
“A hideous sight to behold,” said Palissy, drawing a deep breath, as he
looked after the three sufferers, whose sole crime was that they had
manfully upheld the cause of truth, “and one that makes us marvel at the
wondrous patience of God. How long, O Lord, wilt thou leave thy chosen
ones at the mercy of those who cease not to torment them?” This
sorrowful exclamation had scarcely been uttered, when two fellows who
stood near fell to quarrelling and beating each other. A ring was soon
formed around them, and the bystanders looking on cried, “Give it him
well; strike as though he were an heretic.” “Alas!” said Palissy, “what
frightful crimes will be committed when such a spirit grows rife; already
terrible things are done elsewhere. I heard but yesterday, through one
who shall be nameless, that many are burned and destroyed in various
ways, in Paris and elsewhere. A peasant in the forest of Lyons, met four
men who were on their way to execution. He asked the reason of their
punishment, and having learned they were Huguenots, claimed a place upon
the cart, and went to the gallows with them.”
That evening there occurred what Bernard called “an admirable accident.”
The three heretics had been conveyed to their prison-house carefully
guarded; and, above all, Robin, who was the principal object of hatred,
and whom it was designed to put to death with the most cruelty. He was
kept, with his companions, heavily ironed, in a prison attached to the
bishop’s palace, and a sentry was placed to watch outside, while a number
of large village dogs were turned into the court-yard. But, for all
these precautions, Robin did not despair. He had obtained a file
(probably Palissy could have told how he managed this,) and having filed
off the irons which were upon his legs, he gave the file to his
fellow-captives, and proceeded to scrape a hole through the prison wall.
But a strange accident here occurred. It chanced that a number of
hogsheads which had been emptied during the fête, had been piled, one
above another, against the wall, and these being pushed down by the
prisoner, in his efforts to escape, fell with rumbling noise, and
awakened the sleeping sentry, who listened for a while, but hearing
nothing further, and overcome by the fumes of the liquor in which he had
indulged somewhat freely, relapsed into slumber. Bernard tells, in his
quaint manner, what next befell, thus: “Then the said Robin went out into
the court at the mercy of the dogs; however, God had inspired him to take
some bread, which he threw to the said dogs, who were quiet as the lions
of Daniel. It was so ordered that he should find an open door, which led
into the garden, where, finding himself again shut up between certain
somewhat high walls, he perceived by the light of the moon, a tall pear
tree, close enough to the outer wall, and having mounted this, he
perceived, on the outer side of the wall, a chimney, to which he could
leap easily enough.” He was soon safe in the street, but, having never
been in the town before, he was at a loss how to proceed. In this
dilemma, the clever fugitive recalled to mind the names of the physician
and apothecary who had attended him, and went knocking from door to door
inquiring for their residence. He had contrived to fasten his fetters to
his leg, and carrying his dress about his shoulders, had the adroitness
to arrange it somewhat after the costume of a footman, so that the people
whom he roused were deceived, and supposing it to be an urgent case of
sickness, gave him the necessary directions. In this manner he succeeded
in gaining the shelter of a friendly roof, and from thence was conducted
safely out of the town; nor was he again taken, though, in the course of
his perilous adventure, he had knocked at the door of one of his
principal enemies, who, in the morning, offered a reward of fifty dollars
for his recapture.
Alas, for Nicole and the kind-hearted schoolmaster of Gimosac! Brother
Robin would fain have had them accompany him and share his risk, but they
chose rather to remain in their fetters. Seeing they had neither
strength nor energy to follow his example, he took a sorrowful leave of
them, praying with and consoling them, exhorting them to do valiantly,
and to meet death with courage. Both perished in the flames a few days
after; one in the city of Saintes, and the other at Libourne. The heart
of Palissy was too full to suffer him to detail the particulars of this
event. It was the first time the fires of persecution had blazed before
his eyes; and as he gazed upon the terrific sight, his soul was kindled
with a zeal unquenchable, and from that time the whole force of his
energy was upon the side of the Reformers.